


Of Mischief and Magic

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gryffindor John, Hogsmeade date, M/M, Magic, Ravenclaw Sherlock, Rimming, Second Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Setting - many years post Voldemort's death, Slash, Slight Bondage, Spell Sex, lots of "I love you's", slight size kink, some character deaths but they're bad guys, sorry it moves so quickly, winter holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock spend Winter Hols at Hogwarts and spend their time eating sweets, having lazy sex, and also solving a case that saves the entire wizarding world from a cohort who wants to recreate Voldemort's legend and take over the ministry of magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mischief and Magic

The furnace in the Gryffindor house of commons crackled with fire to counteract the cold outside. Winter Hols was in a week and everyone was itching to leave, except for a select few. John and Sherlock sat squeezed together in John’s red velvety armchair with books and notes cracked open on their laps. They were warm and sated from warm butterbeer Greg had given them. Happy to be at Hogwarts.

“What are the ingredients that go into the antidote for common potions? Keyword common, John," Sherlock quizzed.

John tapped a quill thoughtfully against his bottom lip. “Mistletoe berries, unicorn horns, and… betony? Ah, Merlin, I forgot,” He pouted.

Sherlock frowned, “Close! C’mon you know this, just think. What acts commonly as a counter-reactor?”

A light went on in John’s head and he smiled, “Bezoar.” He closed his eyes and leaned forward to accept as kiss from Sherlock, who planted it willingly. 

“Magnificent. And to think that you said potions was your worst class.” Sherlock snuggled in even closer to John’s side, if that was possible. 

“It was, but if according to you it isn’t then I guess we don’t need to be together anymore. I’ll find myself another ridiculous, hot boy to help with charms.” John gave Sherlock a mischievous look and feigned getting up off the chair which caused Sherlock to actually pull him back down into his lap. John giggled and let all of their school supplies tumble down onto the carpeted floor. 

They pressed their lips together with a low hum, “what’s the main reacting ingredient in Amortentia?”

“Hmm?” John mock pondered, “I’m faintly sure I recall it being Sherlock.”

The main ingredient chuckled and muttered, “Looks like you’re still going to need my help.” They kissed again. And then more deeply the next until both boys were full on snogging in the middle of the commons room. That was until Molly Hooper, a fifth year that used to have special affections for Sherlock, descended the stairs from the girls’ dormitories. Her wand was tucked through the band of her ponytail and she had a light shade of pink lip stain smattered on her thin mouth. John and Sherlock reluctantly broke apart at her arrival. 

“Have I interrupted something?” She asked with a smirk as if that wasn’t her total intention. She sat down on the sofa across from the two sixth years and crossed her legs daintily. “Anyway, I came to ask Sherlock if he has the answers to last year’s herbology exam.”

“No, I do not.” Sherlock still didn't look away from John.

“Possibly, but I know you remember. So if you could write them down that would be great. If not then I’m sure the headmaster would love to hear that a Ravenclaw has been spending copious amounts of time in the Gryffindor commons and spending nights in its dormitories.”

John gaped at her and was almost exasperated with Sherlock when he didn’t react the same. “Molly, who told you to come here? I know for a fact that you’re at least decent at herbology. It was Donovan wasn’t it? You really shouldn’t let older Slytherins bother you. But since I’m nice,” John let out a snort, “hush John. Since I’m nice I will give you the answers tomorrow.” He shook his head but smiled nonetheless, “The things I do for you Gryffindors just so I can be in here.” He was constantly tutoring Gryffindors and giving them notes just so they would like him enough to not care if he stayed. So far it worked pretty well. Him and John were well liked amongst their peers in Gryffindor. 

Molly looked down and smiled sheepishly, “Thank you Sherlock,” then scampered out of the room. 

Night fell outside and the room remained deserted. Everyone took the week to hang around in the Great Hall and say their goodbyes before they wouldn’t see each other for weeks. John and Sherlock on the other hand didn’t care much for others. They were still in the same spot except now John munched on Canary Creams and watched Sherlock read his copy of “Advanced Potion Making.” Every now and then he would bite half of the chocolate egg and feed the other half to Sherlock who would intentionally leave cream all over his mouth so John would have no choice but to lean over and kiss the sugary filling off. 

This cycle repeated itself until John got a little bored of just watching his boyfriend read. So he fed him a piece of chocolate egg and then attached his mouth to Sherlock’s as soon as he’d swallowed. Sherlock made to pull away but instead John pulled the book from his long, slender fingers. Right now he really liked the idea of those fingers somewhere else. The curly headed boy understood where this was going and sat up in the chair as John swung his legs around to straddle his waist. The ground their crotches together and grew hard in their trousers in a matter of seconds. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” John murmured into his lips.

Sherlock nodded furiously and picked John up just how they were sitting and carried him up the short staircase. They fell down onto the bed, Sherlock on top of John. “Careful there Sher, I’ve got something hard in my trousers.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Is that so?” He said. John laughed and pulled his wand out of his back pocket. He used said wand to secure the curtains around the four poster bed. “People are going to be back to come to bed any second John. You know the drill.”

And know it, he did. The shorter boy drew his wand in a rectangular shape around the bed and muttered a silencing spell so to the boys sleeping around them, it would seem as if nothing was happening behind the curtains. “Expelliarmus,” Sherlock whispered, now wielding his own wand and pointing it at John’s. The lanky, pale boy grinned deviously at his boyfriend so he knew exactly what was about to happen. John didn’t even try to reach for his wand that now lay at the end of the bed. Instead he lay back and let Sherlock crawl over and straddle him. 

“Do whatever you want,” John sighed, as Sherlock kissed down his neck and nipped at a place behind his ear. 

“Incarcerous,” Sherlock chanted, flipping his wand around to all the places where he wanted to tie up John’s ankles and wrists. John smiled and waited on the next spell. “Obscuro,” he said. John felt a blindfold secure itself over his eyes. John tugged a little at his restraints and grew harder at the feeling of them there. It was ten times hotter knowing that natural forces could not remove him from the ties. “Diffindo,” was uttered next and all the seams on John’s uniform popped open allowing Sherlock to peel them off and chuck them to the end of the bed much easier. 

“Sherlock! Those were my only clean pair!”

“Shut up John, don’t make me use Silencio on you too. I was hoping to hear your moans.”

“You absolute pric-!”John began to shout but then Sherlock’s mouth was on his cock and he was moving down ever so slowly. A garbled expletive flew out of John’s mouth causing his lover to grin in accomplishment. This time John tugged at his restraints for real, arm muscles straining to reach down and pull at Sherlock’s curly hair and maybe push his head down further. But Sherlock did the latter himself and John thrust upwards involuntarily. Sweat dripped down his sides and the area between the bedposts grew increasingly hot. Sherlock focused on suckling on the head of John’s dick and then swirling back down to the base. He came back up and dipped his tongue into the slit at the top, under the frenulum, then down to his balls. The pleasure John received was excruciating, as well as the pain. John itched to see how pretty those bowed lips probably looked around his cock. “Oh Merlin, this is how I’m going to die. 

“I was thinking you would maybe die like this.” John was about to ask Sherlock what the bloody hell he meant until he felt his tongue lap over his arse. His lungs almost combusted. 

“Ah, Sherlock, fuck!” He shouted, thanking the silencing spell for keeping his moans between him and Sherlock. “I love your fucking mouth.” John couldn’t stop letting out little gasps as Sherlock mouthed at his entrance. He licked up to his perineum, picking up John’s cock and stroking it firmly as his tongue inched back down to his hole. His lips secured around the outside as he began thrusting his tongue inside repeatedly, turning John into a pile of mush on the bed. He was overstimulated and desensitized and he absolutely loved it. “Sherlock I’m going to come and I’d really rather save that for when you’re inside me.”

“Fair enough,” the boy chuckled and slid back up John’s body, still fully clothed. Sherlock rolled his hips down into John’s leaking cock again and again. John thrust up into him and whined.

“I swear to Merlin, if you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds I will not be adverse to using an unforgivable spell or two.”

“Of course,” Sherlock mashed his lips into John’s and hummed the word, “relashio,” into John’s mouth, causing all of the bindings around his ankles, eyes, and wrists to relinquish. John sighed and immediately made to curl his legs up around Sherlock and pull him in. 

“Sherlock?” John questioned, receiving a hum in answer from his insufferable boyfriend. “I’d really like to not be able to walk tomorrow… If you know what I mean.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m positive,” John moaned when Sherlock’s hand curled back around his cock, giving it a few hard pumps then finding his wand next to John’s head. 

“As you wish, love.” Sherlock kissed him and then pointed his wand to where the nightstand would be, chanting, “accio lubricant,” for the small, plastic tube to come flying through the curtains and landing right in Sherlock’s awaiting hand with a dull pitter. He set down both items and let John assist him with shedding all of his clothing items and discarding them with John’s. When Sherlock was finally rid of pants he uncapped the lube and squeezed a decent amount onto his fingers, warmed it up, then brought a hand down to rub his fingers at John’s entrance. John moaned as Sherlock’s index slipped in and curved inside.

Sherlock tucked his face into John’s neck and began sucking a mark into it that would be later hidden with his winter scarf. He slipped in another finger, then another, until three fingers were stretching open John's arse. “Just fuck me already Sherlock, please.” He was so hard it hurt and probably about to come any second. Sherlock gave one last thrust that hit John’s prostate and made his knees buckle onto the bed. His mouth to dropped open in a silent “O’ shape at the feeling. He knew just how to press every button and tear him apart.

Sherlock, now just as desperate as John, plucked up his wand one last time, this time aiming it at his own cock and chanting, “engorgio,” making its already decent length and girth grow about 2 inches longer and wider. 

Lust filled John’s eyes at the sight and he drank it all in. He loved when him and Sherlock played like this, using magic to make their sex even better. They loved knowing that muggles would never experience this kind of pleasure. Sherlock drizzled more lube onto his own cock and sighed as he spread it all over. He lined it up with John’s entrance and pushed the head in as slow as possible. He knew even though John fucking loved being stretched it would still hurt at first. “Take a deep breath John. I’m gonna push in and then you can exhale when I’m all the way inside.”

John did as he was told and sucked in a breath. Sherlock went a little faster and buried himself as deep as he could in his lover’s arse, relishing in the feeling of how the spell made John feel even tighter around him. He bottomed out and heard the sigh that fell from John’s pursed lips at the feeling. Sherlock kissed at John’s scrunched up features, urging him to relax. He hiked up one of John’s legs over his shoulder and pulled out only a few inches before sliding back in. Little by little he stretch John open until he was begging to be fucked harder, faster.

“Gonna make love to me baby?” John teased in a girlish voice, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s neck and pulling him down to cover his sweat-sticky body. Sherlock moaned loudly at his words and pulled out completely before slamming back in. John screamed and scratched down Sherlock’s expansive back. He chased the pleasure of being filled to the brim with his lover’s cock. It completely knocked the air out of him.

Sherlock’s pale skin glowed in the moonlight that beamed over the top of the bed. John focused on his cheekbones and lips just as much as he did on the feeling of Sherlock thrusting into him. “Kiss me,” Sherlock ordered.

John groaned in pleasure and surged up to meet his boyfriend’s bitten lips. Their tongues tangled surreptitiously behind the cloak of the curtains and the two boys felt immensely as if they were in their own little world.

“I’m gonna come, Sherlock,” he whined breathlessly. 

Sherlock nodded, “come for me, love,” and combed a hand through John’s coarse, blonde locks. He wrapped a hand around John’s heavy cock and sloppily jerked him off in time with his thrusts. John threw his head back against the pillow as a tense feeling shot through his groin and made cum spurt out from his cock and onto his own chest. 

“Ah, fuck!” He squealed. Sherlock gave a couple more solid thrusts that hit as far back as his cock would allow him and came inside John with a cry of pleasure. 

“Merlin, you’re beautiful John. So absolutely beautiful.” Sherlock cast Reducio on his cock and brought it back to normal size then pulled out of John’s arse, making them both wince with sensitivity. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah come here you bugger,” John rolled them so that he was on top and reached behind himself in search of his wand. “Tergio,” he chanted and all of the sweat and cum disappeared from the sheets and their bodies. He muttered it again at the end of the bed, which restitched John’s uniform and folded both of their outfits in a neat stack.

He rolled himself in front of Sherlock and allowed him to tuck his knees into the backs of his own and they threw the covers over themselves as sleep washed over them. “I love you too.”

***

The morning began with the curtains to their bed swinging open, and John jolted upright at the sound. Sherlock didn’t even stir. “What?” He was met with Molly’s face right in his. He pulled the sheets up closer around his naked body in modesty and nudged Sherlock awake beside him. Sherlock groaned with frustration and turned onto his back. “What is Merlin’s name could you possibly want now, Hooper?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need those herbology exam answers now Sherlock. Sally has the test in a half hour and she’s serious about telling the headmaster.” Molly worried a lip between her teeth and folded her hands together in hope that Sherlock would comply. She liked him. And she liked John too. She definitely didn’t want the two of them to get in trouble or for John to lose points for their team.

“Uhg fine,” he swung an arm over his still shut eyes and John curled back under the covers and into Sherlock’s arm to catch a few more moments of sleep. Sherlock patted around on the bed for his wand and raised it to a random corner of the room shouting, “accio, parchment,” and “accio quill,” with little regard to where the supplies were coming from. The landed with a plop in his lap and he smoothed the parchment down over John’s back.

John gave a little “hmff” but didn’t move a muscle. It took Sherlock less than ten minutes to scribble down the answers to the exam. He threw the quill onto the floor and thrust the parchment in Molly’s direction. “Of course Sally cannot take a simple herbology exam for herself because she is such an idiot that given knowledge does not process in her dull, dull brain. Or whatever she has of one anyway.” 

Molly just said, “Thank you,” and skittered away as always. 

“You realize,” John mumbled, “that Molly is actually a very nice girl to be around and would be a lot more inclined to not put up with things if you were nicer to her. She get’s intimidated by sixth and seventh years and you’re not exactly helping.”

“But John,” Sherlock drew out in complaint. 

“But Sherlock,” John chastised. “For me? After all, she does let you use the chemistry supplies that her muggle parents own which yours do not, you little pure-blood.”

Sherlock pecked John on the lips, “For you.” Then he turned back over in bed.

***

A week later they saw their friends goodbye on Winter Hols and Sherlock left Molly stuttering goodbyes when he handed her a bag of neatly wrapped Fizzing Whizbees. Her favorite. John rubbed his back, proud of him for overcoming his insolent attitude.

Hogwarts was rather quiet when they sauntered back inside. “What do you suppose we do today, Holmes?”

“I don’t know Watson. Maybe hogsmeade?”

John smiled up at Sherlock, “It’s a date.”

The boys sat together on the Hogwarts Express with their hands intertwined. Sherlock quizzed John on potions as usual and kissed him with every correct answer. (John maybe got more than he should have).

The train came to a halt at Hogsmeade station where both of them hopped off and ascended into the snowy village. Their gloved hands found each other again and they walked a little aimlessly through the shops. They went into Gladrags Wizardwear and picked out scarves for each other, bought fudge and other confectionaries from Honeydukes for their time in, and ended up at The Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer. It was still packed despite everyone being gone for the holidays so Sherlock and John situated themselves in an empty table in a warm corner closest to the furnace. They shared their beverage and were disgustingly romantic and fuzzy because the season made Sherlock like this and John took full advantage. “I want to go back to Hogwarts and have lazy afternoon sex in the commons room.” John randomly said as they were nearing to the bottom of the glass. Sherlock almost did a spit take but instead grew half hard in his trousers. John would never need to use Erecto to make him hard in public.

As expected, when the two arrived back at school they charmed the door shut for good measure and made love on the floor beside the fireplace. John thought about their future together in moments like those. Sherlock would be an Auror and John would be a teacher at Hogwarts or perhaps a Quidditch player. They would live in The Burrow and maybe have a few kids that would be just as smart as Sherlock and excel in Quidditch just like John. Then when they’re old they’d do some dragon keeping or write some personal spell and incantation books. John adored the thought and longed for his last year at Hogwarts so that they could start their lives together. 

John and Sherlock had been together since the end of third year, although they’d been inseparable since the beginning of their first. Sherlock had caught his eye from the start. He had wondered who that curly haired boy on the Hogwarts Express had been for a week until he saw him get sorted into Ravenclaw. When they first spoke Sherlock looked like it was the last thing he wanted to have been doing. But for some reason they managed to talk time and time again until they were spending all of their free time in the library and side by side at the tables in the Great Hall, despite their house sortings. Nobody understood it; not even them.  
***

The morning after their Hogsmeade rendezvous was spent inside sharing sweets and shortbread cookies beside the fire. Sherlock found an unsolved mystery whilst reading the muggle post in the morning which he took from Molly’s mail delivery. The owl dropped it open on a page revealing information about a muggle woman’s death in Croydon that had “unknown causes despite the autopsy” and would be “investigated further by Scotland Yard.” The only reason the paper bothered to publish the story on the front page let alone continue investigating was because there was a suspicious mark described as “a skull swallowing a snake wrapped around itself in a figure eight shape.” It immediately registered to Sherlock as none other than the dark mark. 

“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Asked John, reading over Sherlock’s shoulder. “Do you think he-who-must-not-be-named is back?” He munched on his breakfast obnoxiously in Sherlock’s ear whilst reading the wizarding world’s paper. 

“Don’t be daft, John. Please, and it’s bloody Voldemort, you don’t have to use silly place holders. When someone dies because their horcruxes have been destroyed there is no way to bring them back. I really thought you knew better than that.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “It’s obviously a group of conspirators that are most likely modeling themselves after death eaters to scare vacuous people like you. Just think John! This is a case that the ministry doesn’t even know about yet. We have to solve this, I’m sure it will be easy. Usually little cults like these barely know how to use dark magic.” Sherlock smiled and looked over to John after his rambling to see that he was gathering his things and leaving the table.

“You think we are solving this case after how rude you just were to me? Don’t think about following me. And don’t bother checking the Gryffindor commons because I won’t be there.” 

John fought back tears as he stomped away out of the Great Hall and through the corridors. He ran up several flights of stairs until he was across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. John paced back and forth three times repeating “I need a place to think,” over again until a door appeared. John quickly ran inside and shut the door behind himself. It made itself part of the brick wall again and inside was his and Sherlock’s secret hiding place. When he came in it was filled with whatever he needed. This time there was a sofa and some chairs, a crackling fire, a large soft carpet, and a broomstick. He knew that Sherlock would find him there, which obviously he wanted eventually, but hopefully he had enough decency to leave John alone for a little while. 

He plopped down on a chair and curled in upon himself, stewing in Sherlock’s hurtful words. Of course he would find an exciting thing to investigate and disregard his boyfriend’s feelings entirely, but it’s not like it hurt less every time. John let a tear slip out and angrily wiped it away for letting himself act like a baby and get so worked up over one little thing Sherlock said. It’s not even like he meant it, but there was something about the way he said something to you that was so menacing you couldn’t help but feel victimized. Sherlock had told John on countless occasions how much he loves him and how he’s the most intelligent person he has ever met. But he was able to hurt, okay?

Crying made John feel even more stupid. So he walked over to where the broomstick was, yelled “up,” with his hand flat out and hopped on, flying down and out of the castle through the training grounds tower and onto the Quidditch field. He flew aimlessly through the metal hoops as fast as he could doing spins and flips on the broom. He just closed his eyes and flew for a good five minutes before there were any interruptions. The wind in his cropped hair felt good and as did not thinking about anything. When he was flying there were no worries.

“John!” He heard being yelled from the ground below him. He ignored it. “Please come down love, I’m sorry.”

“Why should I? I’m too daft to be with someone brilliant like you. Don’t waste your time on me.” John shouted back. He continued to fly and didn’t stop to look at Sherlock.

“I didn’t mean what I said John. I shouldn’t have been rude, I know that. I make no excuses, now please come down.”

John stopped abruptly and glared down at his boyfriend. His awful, rude, belligerent, amazing, beautiful, boyfriend. He suddenly wanted to cry again. “How did you even find me?”

“I wanted to give you some time so I went to talk to Hagrid about the case. Then I went to check the requirement room and Barmy said you weren’t in there. She said she saw you leave with a broom. So I came out here. I love you John Watson.” Sherlock’s voice started to crack. “Now come down. You know I can’t reach you up there.”

John sighed and surged down into the ground, landing gracefully on the snow blanketed grass before Sherlock. “I love you too Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock smiled until John tacked on, “But you’re an absolute ignorant bastard and I cannot deal with this every time you get worked up about something. You can’t treat me like that, okay?”

Sherlock blushed apologetically, “I’m sorry John. Very much so. I promise it won’t happen again. Now I’d really like it if we solved this together. Hagrid told me a lot of great things.”

“We’ll finish this conversation later I guess. C’mon you prat.” John held out his hand in acceptance of Sherlock’s apology and let him kiss him on the cheek. 

That was how they ended up curled up together working on the case. Sherlock had open on his lap Hogwarts yearbooks and punishment logs that Hagrid had lended him. It didn’t take long to sort through the thousands of students that attended the school in previous years to find the three students that had started what Sherlock liked to call ‘the wanna be death eaters, Voldemort fan club.’ John tried to tell him that the name was a mouthfull. “I’ve got it John!” Sherlock clapped the book shut and wrote down three names onto a piece of parchment.

John read them with a mouth full of sugar cookie, “Arthur Chapman, Jamison McCarthy, and Scarlett Atkinson.” John stared up at Sherlock in awe. “Sherlock… these three people all work in the ministry.”

“Right you are John,” Sherlock beamed, “And you know what else they have in common? They all went to Hogwarts ten years ago and were suspended fifth year for drawing dark marks on the walls in the corridors. But it says here,” he pointed to the record book, “that it got expunged from their record. However it doesn’t say why. John, I think one of them is using Imperio to control people into submitting to their whims.”

“Do you think this is why the ministry isn’t reporting it?” 

“I know this is why the ministry isn’t reporting it. They don’t want to be stopped, which means that they’re planning something. They are playing very dirty my dear John. Very dirty. And we’re about to catch them. How fast can you fly us to the Ministry of Magic?”

“I’d say rather quickly, but what in the bloody hell are we going to do once we get there?” John said quietly as if they were concealing a secret from a room full of people rather than an empty one. 

Sherlock looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “We’re going to infiltrate.”

***

The two boys stood outside the entrance and John kept repeating, “This is mad. This is absolutely mad,” a thousand times over. 

“Just do as I say John, alright?” Sherlock urged John further behind a brick wall so they wouldn’t be seen. After a moment or two a tall man in a dark trench coat walked by and Sherlock nonverbally stunned him, discreetly dragging his body into the alley. He counted to three and tossed back a polyjuice potion of which he’d brewed himself after he plucked a single hair from the man’s head and dropped it in the vial. John watched in horror as his boyfriend’s skin bubbled and shifted into place of the other man’s. Sherlock felt as if he was dying and his body was melting wax. It burned and prickled at every part of his body as his shoulders expanded and his clothes ripped, suddenly becoming several sizes too small. Everything cracked when it situated in place and his spine was done stretching to accommodate his new size. Sherlock panted and cracked his neck, leaning down to kiss John to reassure him that he was okay, then realizing that may not be ideal in his new form. He quickly discarded his tattered clothing and switched into the man’s, reaching into his pocket to acquire his wallet as well. “Looks like my new name is Reginald Dierdorff,” Sherlock chuckled.

A short, dainty woman walked by next. John took a deep breath and nonchalantly walked over and stood next to her. He flipped open a small box of Puking Pastilles that he’d acquired from two blokes named Fred and George that him and Sherlock would usually use to jet out of class for a quick fuck. “Care for a mint Miss?” 

She smiled, “That would be lovely, thank you.” She popped it in between her red lips and within a few seconds began to puke uncontrollably. 

“Ma’am, oh Merlin, are you alright? You should really go to St. Mungo's, and I would suggest you apparate to get there faster. That really doesn’t look too good.” John placed a hand faux reassuringly on her back and pulled her hair out from her face stroking through it and pulling out a strand in the process. 

“Thank you sir,” She paused to retch again. John felt horrible. The woman stepped back and disapparated as fast as possible. John ran back into the alley and placed the hair into another vial of potion that Sherlock gave him with shaking hands. He drank it in one sip and immediately dropped it to the ground with a crash as his body contracted in upon itself. A searing feeling ran through his veins and he held his breath the whole time. 

When it was all over John looked up at Sherlock and nodded. “Take off your robes and tuck your shirt into your trousers. It makes it easier that you’re just about the same size as her.” 

“Shut up,” John spat, doing as he was told. 

They left the alleyway and walked down the stairs and into the restroom. It was dirty and awful and John really hated Sherlock for making him do this. They each stepped up to a toilet and climbed in apprehensively. On the count of three they flushed themselves down, swirling until they fell unconscious for the ride. 

The two resurfaced in fireplaces of the Atrium and climbed out looking for each other and staying close by each other’s sides. There was lots of hustle and bustle below the blue, domed ceiling and around the massive, fountain. The young boys stated in awe for a second before remembering their goal. Sherlock spoke quietly, “I’m fairly certain that they’re planning something. We need to find them before it can be done.” Something seemed to spark in Sherlock’s mind. He stopped them in their tracks and spoke just quiet enough for only John to hear. “John I’ve just realized… Do you remember learning about the Second Wizarding War? I’m afraid they’re already infiltrating the ministry and controlling all of the important figures much like they did then. Which means that we can’t go to an official if we find them.”

John tugged at Sherlock’s sleeve, “That means we have to kill the people inflicting it to release the council members they’re using, doesn't it?”

Sherlock didn’t say anything in response but nodded firmly. A scream came from one side of the room and Sherlock’s head whipped over in it’s direction. Suddenly a green glow cast itself over the Atrium and everyone looked up shrieking in terror at the formidable. A large dark mark appeared over their heads and sent everyone running towards the furnaces to escape. It was apocalyptic what one symbol could do to people.

Sherlock growled and looked around, instinctively holding John’s arm and pulling him into his side. “He’s under the curse, we need to stop him,” Sherlock pointed at none other than the Minister. They made eye contact and the Minister disapparated before him. 

“To the elevators John, we have to find them!” They sprinted towards the circular room of golden cages. When they got in Sherlock pressed the button for the ninth floor. “Wherever they’re controlling them from is definitely in here and my guess is that they’re in the Department of Mysteries.”

The light clicked on and Sherlock squeezed John’s feminine hand as the doors slid open and revealed them to a long, dark room illuminated by a blue glow. They stepped in and slowly walked through the corridors. This was none other than the time chamber. It was brightly illuminated and full of clocks, time-turners, and jars. They walked through and examined their surroundings, hands interlocked and free ones gripping tight onto their wands. A change of atmosphere hit with their ascendance into the next room. All that surrounded them were shelves upon shelves of brightly glowing orbs. John, mesmerized, reached forward as if to touch one but Sherlock aggressively pulled him back.

“John! This is the Hall of Prophecies. It’s said that if you touch a prophecy that does not belong to yourself you’ll go mad. Don’t touch anything.”

“Oh, sorry,” John muttered. 

They continued on down the rows and rows of crystal balls until they reached the end of it as well. “Planet Room,” Sherlock chimed. Even John could’ve deduced it himself at the sight of massive planets floating from the black tiled ceiling. “There’s got to be like, what, thirteen of these or something?” Sherlock stared up the ceiling of floating orbs. 

“Nine, actually,” John corrected. He would’ve laughed at Sherlock’s ignorance but decided to take the piss another time. That moment was keep your eye out for “death eaters” time. 

The next room, namely the Brain Room was filled with tanks of green, viscous liquid that had large encephali submerged. “Holy hell those are brains Sherlock.”

“Especially don’t touch those.” 

They continued to walk around the pitch black, rectangular room with only John’s wand for light until another entrance was found. This was presumably the last one, where the conspirators were undoubtedly waiting. 

“Hello loverboys,” A voice echoed from the opposite end of the room. John thrust his wand up for them to see but all that could be seen was the large, stone veil in the center of the room. Sherlock remembered hearing of its passage between life and death. That Sirius Black, a previous figure in the war got stuck in there during the Battle of The Department of Mysteries. It's impossible to return. 

“Who is it?” Sherlock shouted, slowly guiding him and John to the other side of the room. Their light illuminated the faces of three people standing side by side. One was a lanky man with long hair and a thick moustache that had piercing, dangerous looking eyes. The other man was wider but similar in height. He had a strong nose and veiny muscles bulging beneath his shirt. Standing in the forefront was the woman, who had teased, towering hair and a callous look on her face. They all stood in the same defensive position as John and Sherlock.

“You know exactly who we are Mr. Holmes. You came here to go along with our narrative didn’t you?” The woman giggled, “You’re going to be the Harry Potter to our Voldemort.”

“You need to break the curse and stop this. If not we have no choice. There’s no reason to do this and you know it. You know how it ended the first time.” Sherlock and John stood their ground in duel-ready positions. 

The moustached man spoke next, “I wouldn’t suggest that, since now we know exactly what not to do.” 

“Well then you three give me no choice,” Sherlock spat confidently. He lifted his wand and as did John, yelling “Expelliarmus” in unison, only to be counteracted by their opponents. The second man didn’t dare cast a spell on John or Sherlock because the one they already cast could hit his people. 

Glowing energy of bright lights split between their dueling wands and Sherlock and John summoned enough in themselves to overpower them. The wands flew from their hands and the third man used his own wand to retrieve them, returning them to their owners just in time for John to split off from Sherlock and yell “Avada kedavra!” Just as the same words were yelled to Sherlock by the muscular man. They all watched in horror as he dropped to the ground. John stared into Sherlock’s eyes for a split second and then another spell was being cast in vengeance. 

“Crucio!” Cried Sherlock and a bolt of green light clashed into a blue one as their spells battled. Sherlock was pushing back against the woman’s torture spell with his own and he screamed out as it blast him backwards onto the floor. He writhed and screeched in pain on the concrete as the woman circled her wand above him.

“You can’t stop us you little rat!”

“Sherlock!” John shouted but couldn’t help or his spell would lose out and the man’s death spell would hit him. Sherlock’s torture fueled him into winning out, sending the man screaming and writhing on the floor just like Sherlock. But with the woman being distracted, he was able to move his wand forward and send the man screaming and rolling on the hard floor towards the stone pool in the center of the room. John inched forwards more and more until the man’s thrashing body sent itself through the translucent veil. 

In a split second he turned his attention over to the woman and shouted, “Stupefy!” The woman’s body went rigid and fell to the ground near the moustached man. Sherlock immediately stopped writhing but his eyes seemed empty. He was severely hurt.

John sunk to his knees beside him and tapped his face. He then realized he was actually looking at Sherlock’s face. John looked down at his own hands and they’d returned to their normal size. He sighed and lifted Sherlock’s body so the his head rested in his lap. 

“Love, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m...f-fine. Just p-please,” he gasped for his next breath, “get the woman to the Minister.”

John nodded and lay him back on the cold floor. He turned his wand over in his hand and yelled, “Incarcerous,” with it trained on her body. Bindings formed around her and disabled her from movement if she happened to wake up anytime soon. 

Sherlock fell unconscious on account of the stress of the curse which John took as an advantage. He cast mobilicorpus on each of them and found the nearest exit and clicked level one on the elevator multiple times until the doors slid shut. People downstairs were still unnerved from the mark but were calming down. John found the Minister for Magic near the entrance to his and the support staff’s headquarters. His face still looked blank from the wearing off of the curse. John came up to him and set both bodies beside him on the floor outside his office. 

“You’ve and two other officials have just been held under the control of three conspirators planning to start a council like the death eaters. Me and my friend,” he gestured to Sherlock, “followed them to the Department of Mysteries. We ended up killing two of them but she’s still alive if you’d like to interrogate her.”

John was panting in exhaustion. The Minister shook his head, “She works for us.This can’t possibly be true.” 

“I swear it is. If you used a truth serum on me I would tell you the same thing. Their names are Chapman, McCarthy, and Atkinson. You can speak with the headmaster at Hogwarts. Ten years ago they were caught drawing dark marks on the school. I believe we’ve stopped the only ones there are. There’s no imminent danger to the wizarding world. I’m saying this because while you were under the Imperius curse you cast a dark mark that terrified everyone in this room. You might want to reassure them.” 

The man stared at John in shock, “you really are telling me the truth, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes I am. Now please, take care of that so I can get my friend back to the hospital at Hogwarts. The Minister nodded and began to walk away with the woman trailing still unconscious behind his wand. 

Before he could keep going however, he turned back and shouted, “Lad! What’s your name?”

“John Watson! And he’s Sherlock Holmes!”

He nodded and replied, “Thank you Mr. Watson. And thank your friend too. You’ll probably be seeing this in the papers later and we’ll be needing to put in the names of the heroes.” He chuckled and continued to walk until John heard his voice silencing the masses and explaining the situation.

John focused his efforts on getting Sherlock into the fireplace and into the Hogwarts Hospital wing.

***

When Sherlock woke up there was bright light in his eyes and he was staring up into John’s face. “Are you an angel? Am I in heaven?”

John chuckled and smoothed a hand softly through Sherlock’s hair. “Not quite. We’re back at Hogwarts love. You’re in the hospital. That woman put you under a torture spell and rendered you unconscious.”

 

Suddenly the previous day came back to Sherlock’s memory and he shot bolt upright in bed. “John! Please tell me you got rid of them, the woman and two men.”

John hushed him and pushed him back down onto the pillows, “Yes, yes the ministry has the woman under control and the other two men are dead. I erm… killed them, remember?”

“You saved my life,” Sherlock muttered, reaching out so that his fingers were interlaced with John’s.

“Of course I did,” he brought them to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss into them. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” John retorted.

“For what?” Sherlock laughed, “almost getting you killed?”

“Not exactly, no,” said John. The got up from the chair he was in and climbed into the white sheeted hospital cot beside Sherlock. “Just for being there. For being so amazing. You saved a lot of people you know.”

“I’m pretty sure I recall you doing all the work,” Sherlock smiled and tucked his head under John’s chin, breathing in the scent of him. “I want to go sleep in your bed,” he muttered, placing a kiss on John’s chest.

“Me too. But for now, you rest here. You’ve got to be one hundred percent better before you run off trying to save the wizarding world again.”

Sherlock just nods and falls back asleep on his lover’s chest. And John thought that maybe he’d been to close minded about the possibilities of what they’d do in the future. Maybe this was their future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and if there's anything you do/don't like let me know so I can either change or do it in my next fic!  
> find me on tumblr @fideliusjohnlock


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